Wednesday, 31 March 2010

I am writing this as an afterthought to this post and maybe you will find contradictory what you are about to read. To illustrate the comment I am going to make, I just thought I would put first this picture of the glass pyramid inside the Louvre museum. It illustrates the counter-argument, or at least counterpoint of what I was saying then. Indeed, new constructions, and definitely modern looking ones, can stand with new ones in perfect harmony and almost if the old had been made to mix with the new.

Back in another life, I used to teach French around Montreal in various businesses. Some companies were based in old factories, warehouses and what have you, and were mixing elements of old architecture and new things build on it. It was often strange to see the marriage of ultra modern offices and old buildings, but somehow it often worked. I don't know how people who were working there from 9 to 5 were feeling about these places, but it did make my job more enjoyable.

Yesterday, we got a complete blackout from 5:00PM(ish) to the early hours of the morning. I got the title for this post from the neighbour, who came to warn us to "be prepared for a long dark night". So that was a major blackout. Of course I have known major blackouts in my life, sometimes in spectacular circumstances (like this one or that one). But one never gets used to extended ones like the one we just had.

Of course, when it happens, it is an inconvenience that illustrates how much we are dependent on technology. That said, it was not totally devoid of charm. We were lucky enough to have plenty of candles and it proved quite useful: we could lit the room and it gave us just enough light to read a bit. Of course, the mix of shadows and candlelight made the flat very atmospheric. The blackout also made us (re)discover the neighbours and appreciate them. Strange that it is easier to start a conversation when you share the same problems. So the long, dark night was not all bad. That said, we sure could do without another one.

Sunday, 28 March 2010

This is an outdoor picture of the pub we visited a month ago. I love old buildings, whether they are pubs like this one, churches, houses (like the Victorian house I was sharing in Liverpool), or simply new businesses in an ancient place. I thought about it yesterday when I was walking around, that this is something I really appreciate about Europe in general and England in particular: they have plenty of old places, old buildings, old architecture, wherever you are. In America, you don't have that feeling of walking with history just by looking at the architecture around you. A century old house is almost an antiquity and often out of price, or it is crumbling and about to be demolished. Architectural patrimony is a relatively new concept to the new world, while in the old one it is integrated in the psyche. This is the feeling I had when I walked around anyway.

I guess this wide eyed, naïve attitude I have towards European architecture betrays my status of outsider. And since I know nothing about architecture and its history, these observations are the ones of a complete amateur, most likely full of clichés and false perceptions. When I go back to Québec and spend time in Montreal and Quebec City, I will look around for old buildings (might be easier in Quebec City), see if I am more perceptiver to their presence.

Thursday, 25 March 2010

Well, we have today a rainy, even stormy day, the first storm of the spring, with lightning and all. I find it better than late snow. I was wondering what music to put on this blog for such circumstances. I don't want to put Vivaldi's spring here, that would be too obvious. Easter is coming soon and I guess something out of Mozart's requiem could be fine for a gloomy weather, but I put on this blog my share of sacred music in the past. Then I thought: why not some Handel? Two days ago, it was the anniversary of his Messiah, which would certainly suits the coming Easter (at least as much as it does Christmas, the holidays which it is usually associated with), but I want something profane. So I am putting here the aria from his opera Rinaldo, Laschia ch'io pianga, maybe its most famous aria.

I have first heard the aria in a scene(which you can seehere on Youtube) from the movie Farinelli, a musical melodrama based on the life of the castrato. A very good scene from a not quite great but underrated movie. But maybe I am easily impressed when it comes to opera. Nothing beats Amadeus, however Farinelli was quite watchable. I loved the aria then, I love it even more now that I can understand it. It has a beautiful melancholic feel to it, perfect for gloomy days. It is here interpreted by Danielle de Niese, who I think sings Handel beautifully:

Wednesday, 24 March 2010

Yes, I am blogging often about spring these days. I seem to be lacking inspiration for anything else. Anyway, I was wrong, today was lovely, warm and everything. So long for gloom and doom. Until tomorrow, that is, when it is supposed to get rainy.

Spring is not my favourite season, for various reasons. The temperature changes too much, for one. The same thing happens in autumn (my favourite season), but then nature takes a fiery beauty. It is never as beautiful as when it is dying. During springtime,it often looks just as bare as in winter, except without the snow, and well, it smells. Spring stinks. So does autumn sometimes, but spring more so. All the rotting, mouldy things that were frozen or buried in the snow get out again. I have to admit that here it is not as bad as in Québec, as not as much junk gets buried in this generally much milder temperature.

Spring has some nice things going for it: Easter and my birthday, mainly, and of course some memories related to the season and those two events, which I will spare you for now. But on the whole, I consider spring to be a long rehearsal before summer.

Tuesday, 23 March 2010

I was right to say that March is a treacherous month. After a week of nice weather and a first day of the spring absolutely idyllic, it is now rainy, cold (well, the rain makes it cold), and dark. So it is now gloom and doom, weather-wise at least.

Monday, 22 March 2010

As I have been an avid follower of various blogs since I started blogging myself, I thought it was about time that I beefed up the blog roll to your right. I hope I did not forget any of them. I hope I did not forget anyone. I already mentioned a few of them recently, I will point out to some of the others. So you now have here:

-The Atheist Experience. I follow the blog and the show assiduously, I became one of their fans through Youtube. Pretty busy blogs as many people post on it.-Ariane Sherine's blog, the one who started the Atheist Bus Campaign. She blogs only sporadically.-L'Étrange cas du Baron Luisant. If you can read French and like old serials, this one is for you. It's a brilliant pastiche from an old friend of mine.-Leigh Russell's blog. Leigh actually found this blog before I found hers. She also happens to be a published author of crime fiction novels, so I was very flattered that she comments here.-Nuts and Reasons. Another atheist/humanist/secularist blog.-Mozart's Girl's blog. There are never too many Mozart fans around.-Orange and Black, mainly about Halloween.

I hope I am not forgetting anyone. Some random observations about the :

-The French content is distressingly low, only one of the new blogs is in French. Just like for my own blog (mea culpa), which is a shame as it is called Vraie Fiction. I think it is the result of me living in English for most of my life. English language has a power of attraction that I cannot avoid.-Just like the way I blog, the way I follow blog is pretty anarchic: there are no central themes or topics to the group of blogs I follow, some are about atheism/humanism, others are about a very specific holiday or about various arts.-I started blogging to and for my family and close friends, but it quickly extended. I sitll have a very modest readership (although I did receive some attention from time to time), yet I really feel part of the blogging world.

Saturday, 20 March 2010

I said it before before: March is a treacherous month. This week, we had very sunny weather and very nice temperature. It was comfortably warm like springtime should be, yet we are still technically winter. I hope we will not have weather worthy of winter when we should be in the spring. The last two days have been rainy, but still very warm, therefore bearable.

I don't trust March. Hey, it's named after the Roman god of War and since it is a month quick to sudden weather changes, it deserves the name completely. I suspect that it was nasty weather that got in the head of the murderers of Julius Caesar. He was assassinated in March and he was wisely warned to beware of the Ides of March.

Thursday, 18 March 2010

Today, I had a conversation about a possible future job for me. It is very hypothetical right now, but anyway, the agent, who was Italian, asked me if I knew any other languages apart from French and English. I told her the usual line, to which she replied, in Italian: "You say you don't understand a word, yet you speak with a Southern accent." As I said then, the smallest thing can make my day. I was happy not only to see that I could have the accent of a native, but that I could understand what she was saying. It is also funny that it appears that I am a Northerner everywhere except in Italy.

Wednesday, 17 March 2010

Yes, yes, I used that picture before, but who cares? It's Saint-Patrick's Day and it is indeed a lovely day for a Guinness. And it is also my favourite Guinness advert ever, the still ones at least. Happy Patty's Day to everyone.

Between the beginning of this post and now, I had time to drink two Guinness and had a bit of Irish stew (so long for Lent and fasting), courtesy of the landlady of the local Irish pub (almost empty, sadly, but I guess tonight is the big night). So I am writing this not quite sober. Anyway, it is time to celebrate, so will put here two Irish songs. I'll Tell Me Ma I first heard in Liverpool on Saint-Patrick's Day and I fell in love with it, I still don't know why. On the Bank of the Roses I only discovered recently, but it is the same thing, I just love it. Both songs are here interpreted by the Dubliners:

Tuesday, 16 March 2010

I am not a big follower of cooking blogs, as I think they are too often virtual catalogues with some nice photographs. That said, there are some that I really love and follow eagerly, as they manage to be quite inventive in this often very unimanginative format. Notice that I use the word "cooking blog" very liberally, as these blogs often are not exclusively about cooking. So here's the list:

-My French Cuisine. Maybe my favourite, and I say this very carefully as I don't want to take anything away from the others. But anyway, I particularly love this one because of the cultural aspect. Her post on Easter got me into the blog, I found it fascinating. I read this blog for the cultural aspect more than the food, as the posts reveal a way of living.-October Farm. Not really a cooking blog, but as I said I use the term very liberally. There are plenty of posts where there are meals and their recipes, mainly comfort food, they are always seasonal and they always look delicious. I haven't cook one yet, but I have been printing many of them and I am planning to give them a try. I have started following this blog for other reasons, but I was amazed that kept reading the recipes.-Baking Brownies for Mozart. From Mozart Girl, who is a professional baker (and boy does it show on the decadence of some of the desserts there!). Why I love this blog has nothing to do with Mozart (no seriously), but everything to do with my sweet tooth. I need to try some of those desserts, although I am always worried that I might miss the cakes.

I should also mention that Desideratum posts sometimes recipes which are quite mouth watering. Oh, and I published one recipe myself, here. So far it's the only one.

Monday, 15 March 2010

Is it me, or do mills in general, windmills or watermills, look sinister? Not that I would mistake windmills for giants or anything, but there is something vaguely ghostly in their appearance, big spectral things standing in an often desolated environment, still or creaking like an haunted house.

Maybe I have this impression about mills because of Krabat/The Satanic Mill, a story by German writer Ottfried Prussler which I have already blogged about in French. It was about a teenager living in poverty as a vagrant, who got hired as an apprentice in a watermill, (after listening to the calls of ravens), only to discover afterwards that the miller is indeed a warlock who kills his most experienced apprentice once a year in a duel to keep his powers. It is a very dark story, but an idealistic one: love vanquishes evil and redeems those who have fallen, power corrupts, but one can escape from its temptations and so on.

They made a movie adaptation recently, which I really want to see. I know Krabat not from the original novel, but from another, much older, animated adaptation by Czech director Karel Zeman, called in French L'Apprenti sorcier and in English Krabat, The Sorcerer's Apprentice, according to imdb. It showed once on a Saturday afternoon when I was a child. I can't believe they were showing such program in the afternoon. Not only because it was violent, many cartoons were at that time, but because when it was violent, it was bloody and even had murders. It also had a dreamlike aesthetic that often took the colours of nightmare. The images were lush and beautiful, but always scary. For the curious, you can find the movie here, in German with English subtitles. When I re-watched it eagerly last Autumn, I was again mesmerised by it. I strongly recommend that you watch it. Krabat is both sweet and terrifying, a rare quality that gives rare pleasures.

Saturday, 13 March 2010

"In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty, I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone, As she wheeled her wheel-barrow, Through streets broad and narrow, Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!""

Care for some Irish music, as it is soon Saint Patrick's Day? I first got introduced to this classic song in A Clockwork Orange, when a drunken beggar sings it, which causes Alex to dismiss it in these unflattering terms:

"One thing I could never stand was to see a filthy, dirty old drunkie, howling away at the filthy songs of his fathers and going blurp blurp in between as it might be a filthy old orchestra in his stinking, rotten guts. I could never stand to see anyone like that, whatever his age might be, but more especially when he was real old like this one was."

I know Alex is supposed to be a hooligan and a musical elitist one at that, but that was still unfair. Molly Malone is not a filthy song. The beggar does not sing it in the original novel. I don't think Anthony Burgess, who had Irish blood and was in love with the country and its capital, could have come up with something like that. Anyway, the song stayed at the back of my head, as the small part in the musical framework of the movie, until I visited Dublin ten years ago and saw her statue on Grafton Street.

Like many things I love, I don't know exactly why I love it. It's a great drinking song, it has romantic self-irony, a bit of of supernatural element, atmosphere, it also has charming simplicity. I have been wanting to put it on this blog for a while. So here it is, sung by the Dubliners (and I know it takes too much space):

I am warning you, this post is completely trivial, compared to the previous ones this month. I am now a regular customer of the local sweet shop. It is usually my fudge provider, but I do buy other things from time to time. This week, I bought someliquorice candies. I am not the biggest fan of liquorice, I used to have pipe shaped ones when I was a kid, but that never was my favourite dessert. Still, it is nice to get the old-fashioned flavours from time to time. Because there is something I find ancient about the taste of liquorice, I don't know why.

Wednesday, 10 March 2010

I thought about this yesterday: I have seen a number of places in my life, towns and cities, both as a resident and as a tourist. I was wondering in which one of them I could live and be happy, if I had the opportunity to move there. Loving a place depends of emotional factors much more than objectives ones. I thought I would make the list here of the places I would most gladly move to:

-There is Montreal. Well of course. This is where I feel most at home and where I feel most local. Even though I am from Saguenay, which a Montrealer easily identifies the moment I open my mouth (it appears that I kept my accent), I feel Montrealer. It is true that many Bleuets expats end up in Montreal, so it's like a second home for us. Strangely enough, I do not feel the need to go back and live in Chicoutimi.-There is also Liverpool, my city of adoption (albeit for a relatively short period of time). It might not be a beautiful place, but neither is Montreal and Liverpool, probably more than Montreal, has character. I never felt local, but I never felt like a stranger either. Maybe it is because Liverpool has a long tradition of welcoming immigrants, which makes it a city where one feels naturally at home, maybe it is because there are cultural similarities between the Scousers and the Québec Northerner I am, maybe it is because Liverpool was the city where I got my favourite job so far. I probably idealise it more than I should, but there you go.-Bath I think I could appreciate living there, although I might find the history of the city a bit heavy on a daily basis. But it is just so beautiful a place, I wouldn't miss the chance of trying it as a resident.-Same thing with Cambridge, which I find beautiful, but maybe with too much history. I would certainly try it if I had the chance. I might feel intimidated by the presence of its university, but I would sure spend lots of time in its bookstores.-Dublin. I have been there once, ten years ago, and for only one week, but I loved it to bits. I did not feel the presence of history at all, even though I saw many tourists. I had a thing for Ireland before I went there, it only got stronger after I left. And I could live on Guinness easily.-I always thought I would feel comfortable living in Bergamo. But then I would need to improve my Italian. Bergamo is another city I really loved. It is heavy with history, but I did not feel the tourist's presence much, if at all. I have a thing for Italian culture and a personal bound with the country, which I blogged about often. I could develop this relationship in Bergamo. The fact that it is in the North of Italy makes it a natural choice. Like in Liverpool, I would be a Northerner there too. I have one vivid image of Bergamo: I was at the top of a tower (can't remember the name, but it has a history) and I could hear a baritone singing Mozart from the Music faculty of their university nearby. Idyllic. There are one or two other anecdotes about me and the place, which I might blog about one day.

The jury is still out for Vancouver and Manchester, which I loved but as a tourist (and in Manchester as a pilgrim) and I am not sure I could apppreciate these particular cities as much as a resident. Anyway, where could you, my readership, live, if you were given the choice?

Sunday, 7 March 2010

I am reading two books at the moment, borrowed from the local library. One is on Norman kings in England, the other is on Vikings. I am not a historian, but I had to learn a fairly important amount of medieval history during my studies. I love history, so it was no problem. I don't need it anymore, but I kept a keen interest in it, so sometimes I get a few history books from the library, dry academic ones or more "mainstream" works and I read them just for fun. I was happily surprised that I did not forget everything from my paleography classes and that I could still read bits of ancient texts, providing they were in a clear handwriting. Not much of them, but still...

I am not into historical novels much, unless it goes beyond the genre (it's a cliché expression if there is one, I know). I say this and I am shamelessly forgetting that I love historical dramas (such as this one) and some of my favourite books can be considered historical novels. Anyway, I love reading history the same way I love reading a good novel, with the same feeling of following a drama. I don't know if that makes sense, or if anybody else feels the same.

Saturday, 6 March 2010

As I mentioned before, we went to a typical English village last week, and I now have enough pictures to fill the blog for quite a while.

So anyway, there was an old church in this nice little English village. I am not a religious man at all, quite the opposite as you know, but I always found old churches full of charm. Furthermore, as a medievalist I have an academic interest in them. I suspected this one was quite old, but since history of architecture is not my specialty I could not evaluate the time period when it was built. I asked at the local pub, just in case, but of course they had no clue. It appears, after researching the Internet, that the foundation dates back to the XIIth century. Just the time period when I am specialised in. Like many other ancient churches it was rebuilt later on, but it still retains some of its medieval look. Looking at a place like this, one almost feels the past centuries as if they were here and now.

I don't want to repeat what I said in the first post about this village, but looking at it, I felt a bit like a M.R. James story or a Dungeons & Dragons game, or a Ha... well, you must know about that one too. I repeat myself, but I guess that is to be expected after blogging for three years now. Even old cemeteries don't look so sinister. Or, if they do, they remain deeply atmospheric. Which is all they need to be. I got married in an old church, a XIIIth century one looking a bit like this one. I might blog about it one day, until then, you have this picture of a piece of ancient time.

Friday, 5 March 2010

Hey, Mozart's Girl was nice enough to give me an award recently, it took me a while to get down to it. So here are seven things I haven't told my readership about me:

1)From my long friendship with Italians, I learned nearly nothing of the language and barely any Italian recipes. One was a bruschette recipe which my family still uses to this day and another one of some salmon pasta. I might put them here one day with posterity.

2)As a very young child, I used to have a babysitter who was basically my Mary Poppins. She was funny, smart and taught me many things. I think she is the woman who gave me my wild imagination and got me fascinated with ghost stories and fairy tales.

3) The said babysitter used to feed me with tins of mushrooms. I loved mushroom back then (probably because she was the one feeding me with them), then I started hating them for some reason. I am rediscovering them slowly.

4)I can keep a grudge for ages. For example, there was a kid my brothers and I hated, a spoiled brat who was always up to no good, we were always fighting with him. Through bullying, he stole a toy horse from my yougest brother one day. We got it back, re-stealing it (de-stealing it?) whn the kid was away from his home. The toy was in the kid's back garden, among other stuff he had just tossed around in total indifference. I don't think he ever noticed the loss. Anyway, years (decades!)later, we sat at the same table at a common friend's wedding. He was chubby and balding, even though he was younger than me. I remembered the ancient feuds and I have to confess I felt a bit of schadenfreude seeing him balding like that. That is silly I know and he might be a decent guy now. Still, he was so unpleasant then.

7)I got my four wisdom teeth removed all at once, back when I was 18. I looked like a hamster for a week and for a week I ate porridge, mashed bananas and Graham crackers dipped in milk or tea.

So that's it and I understand that a lot of this is about childhood memories. I kept some for other memes and awards.

Okay, and now to whom will I give this award? Here we go:

-My wife first, as she often blogs original stuff and I wished she would blog more often.-My brother, for similar reasons.-My youngest brother, for similar reasons.-Gwen Buchanan as she has not blogged for a while and I miss her artsy posts.

Wednesday, 3 March 2010

I put that song on this blog before, I know. I thought I would put it again. I have been listening to Mozart's operas a lot these days. I have a long history with Mozart, as a listener and later on as an (amateur) opera singer. I was in Austria on a trip with my family during the 200th anniversary of his death. We spent the next year or so listening to Mozart, then for years my mother listened and listened to it, enough for me to get an overdose by the time I was twenty. I got sick of him and his music.

Then, years later, when I started studying opera, I asked my teacher to get me some Mozart arias to sing. It was partially at the request of my mum who wanted to hear me singing her favourite composer, partially because I wanted to reconciled with his work. She gave me a few songs, including Deh vieni alla finestra. I quickly became a Mozart aficionado again, especially of Don Giovanni, which I rediscovered through its arias. They are beautiful, but the opera in itself is brilliant (one of my favourite), animated by a fascinating character. I hope to reflect on it and on him one day (a little bit more about it here). I have a few regrets in my life, not becoming a professional baritone is one of them, just like having never performed an opera onstage. If I had ever become opera singer, Don Giovanni would have been my role. I don't mean that I would have become famous for my interpretation of him (my voice is too weak I think), but it would have been the role I would have never got tired of singing. I decided to put Deh vieni alla finestra here again, because it was this aria that subrepticely brought me back to Mozart. I have decided to put it here sung by Samuel Ramey.